


mutually assured destruction

by tvfanatic97



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Porn with Feelings, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Strangers to Lovers, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:22:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28249827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tvfanatic97/pseuds/tvfanatic97
Summary: She looks back down at her phone and realises it’s now been forty-five minutes since anyone has asked her anything, even a quick “how have you been doing—“So, what do you do?”MJ almost startles at the unexpected question directed at her. She looks to Peter, then to her left and her right, all around her in search of someone else he could be talking to.Peter simply gives her a small, encouraging smile.-A 'Fleabag' season 2 AU.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 13
Kudos: 69





	mutually assured destruction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [perfectlystill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfectlystill/gifts).



> Emma, you thought your birthday was over? SIKEEEEE. I've done the [americans au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28204134) you def asked for (sorta) now here's one you didn't necessarily ask for uh ha ha. I couldn't decide b/ween the two aus for your bday present so I'm giving you both bc why not.  
> As you may well know I'm not Phoebe Waller-Bridge. For one, I'm a regular English girl and am not from a filthy rich family/a descendant of English gentry. But also, I don't have even a smidgen of her writing talent, but I tried. Ily and hope you had a wonderful birthday <3

It probably doesn’t require this level of concentration to butter a bread roll, but MJ figures if she’s focused on buttering bread then subsequently stuffing her face with it, she can get through this dinner relatively unscathed.

She notices Gayle’s gaze trained on her so MJ throws her a sheepish closed-lip smile which Gayle doesn’t return, only mildly scowling at her before turning away. Things have recently been… _tense_ between them; all stemming from Timmy drunkenly making a pass at her, which he’d somehow spun into _her_ making a move on him which fractured her precarious relationship with her sister that they’d only just begun to mend.

MJ sighs quietly, refocusing on her task of quietly making her way through the bread no one else has touched as they wait for their starters.

She’s saved from further awkwardness by a voice at the head of the table, her godmother drawing everyone's attention to her, just the way she likes it. “So, you’re probably all wondering why we brought the family together for this dinner.”

She is _not_. What she’s actually wondering is why Spider-Man is currently sitting next to her.

“We’re getting married!” She announces with no preamble, not allowing for any build-up to her news.

A chilling stillness avalanches through MJ. It seems like just yesterday they’d buried her mother. Every day MJ still has to contend with carrying the weight of her grief which sits right at the center of her chest, sometimes making it difficult for her to breathe or to even, _be_. It seems unimaginable that her dad could be moving on so soon; MJ can’t shake off the acute feeling of betrayal.

She finishes off the remaining part of her bread roll, swallowing it down around the newly-formed lump in her throat with great difficulty.

“Congratulations you assholes!” Timmy is the first to react to the news. There’s a slight slur to his words, almost imperceptible but there all the same, that tells MJ he’s definitely had some alcohol despite him supposedly being sober. She decides she won’t comment on it, the same way she has been decidedly not commenting on any of the number of observations she’s made since arriving at the restaurant.

MJ refocuses on the conversation happening in front of her, finding that she’s missed a large chunk of whatever was said for she finds her godmother now telling a story about a mugging instead of her and her dad’s impending nuptials .

“And there I was, surrounded by these _thugs_ and I felt so helpless and hopeless.” MJ wants to roll her eyes at her godmother’s proclivity for dramatics, but keeps her attention on her bread rolls. She carries on, revelling in the way everyone’s attention is on her no doubt. “But then, this guy over here,” she places a gentle, lingering hand over the hero in question’s shoulder to punctuate her words. “He swooped in and saved me, right at the last second. I insisted he come to this dinner after that, without Spider-Man I probably wouldn’t be here. I certainly wouldn’t be marrying your father.”

There's a thought.

“You can just call me Peter, ma’am,” Peter responds, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck. MJ can’t help but notice the way the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks turn a warm shade of pink; her fingers itch to put that exact shade to canvas.

Her godmother smiles and gives Peter’s shoulder another squeeze, completely unnecessarily, but given the way his button-up fits over his torso MJ can’t say she blames her. This is the one thing they can see eye-to-eye on.

“Say what you will about the Accords, but I think they’ve really made the streets safer and allowed for people like Spider-Man here to help those that need it. Like me,” her god mom carries on.

MJ can see the way Peter’s jaw clenches at the words, _interesting_ , though he just sips on his drink instead of saying anything.

“I wouldn’t say that’s necessarily true,” Gayle jumps in to argue, offering up her perspective as someone working in Law. “If it were simply a way for the government to provide oversight on enhanced individuals to minimise civilian casualties and property damage, I’d agree it’s a good thing. But where does it end? You do realise the government could take advantage of loopholes in the legislature to conscript registered individuals to fight for our military, right? Does it seem right that someone like Peter here could be invading the Middle East for oil?”

MJ has to bring her glass of wine to her lips to hide the smile threatening to break out. She should not be so delighted by Gayle standing up to their godmother the way their dad fails to do time and time again.

“Oh honey, come on,” Timmy jumps in, immediately trampling on the little bit of joy MJ had found. “You sound like a conspiracy theorist spouting about " _loopholes"_ in the legislature. I’ve had a look at the bill and trust me, it’s air tight.”

MJ scoffs before she can stop herself, and she almost goes to tell him that him having had a read through the bill means nothing, considering what a shitty lawyer he is. But Gayle seems to anticipate that she’s about to make a comment as she turns to her, giving her a warning look which causes MJ to sink back into her chair once more, keeping her lips firmly sealed.

Her family breaks out into an impassioned debate about superhero oversight, each of them asking Peter for his input before immediately speaking over him without waiting for him to get a word in.

When it all gets too much, MJ escapes out to the outside of the restaurant and takes a few calming drags of one of the cigarettes stashed in her purse in case of emergency. It’s a horrible habit and she intends to quit, she does, but sometimes being around her family calls for the calming rush of nicotine.

* * *

She comes back inside just in time for the first course, which she promptly digs into to avoid having to converse with her family who are still going with their debate, though they’ve moved on to tenuously connected topics like how the government should deal with anti-vaxxers, climate change and more.

After finishing off her starter and piling up everyone’s dishes at the end of the table to make it easier for their server to take them away, she turns to look at her phone which she has tucked beneath the table on her lap to avoid her god mother’s admonishing words about how rude it is to be on her phone at the table. MJ’s rebellious streak that longs to reject this woman is constantly at war with the part of herself that tells her to be civil with her and not provoke her, for her dad’s sake.

Looking at her phone tells her that it’s coming onto forty minutes since her family started arguing, and not once has anyone asked for her opinion on any of the number of topics they’ve discussed, of which she has many, nor has anyone even said a word directly to her. She finds that she doesn’t mind too much.

MJ wonders whether she could sneak away from this dinner unnoticed given how little attention they pay her. Maybe she could ask the restaurant to box up the remainder of her meal then head back to her apartment, binge watch some ‘ _Big Brother_ ’ and spend some quality time with her vibrator to relive some of the stress being around her family brings her.

She sighs almost wistfully at the thought, looking up to see if she can catch their server’s attention before immediately deflating when she’s nowhere to be found. She looks back down at her phone and realises it’s now been forty-five minutes since anyone has asked her anything, even a quick “ _how have you been doing_ —

“So, what do you do?”

MJ almost startles at the unexpected question directed at her. She looks to Peter, then to her left and her right, all around her in search of someone else he could be talking to.

Peter simply gives her a small, encouraging smile.

She clears her throat, almost re-learning how to use her voice again, then, “Uh, I run a bookshop.”

“That’s really cool,” Peter responds, and his eyes gleam with an earnestness that causes MJ to feel weirdly timid all of a sudden.

There’s something about the way he says the words, something about him generally, that makes MJ want to open up to him. She goes to say something else in an effort to keep the conversation going but is interrupted by her dad speaking, “It’s going well, is it?”

Her godmother jumps in too, “Yes, how _is_ that going?” And there it is, the same patronising, chiding tone she always takes with her.

Everyone’s attention turns to her for the first time this entire evening, watching her expectantly.

“It’s going fine,” MJ answers through gritted teeth.

They keep watching her, their facial expressions a mixture of pitying and disbelieving in a way that makes MJ want to scream at all of them. Not Peter, though.

“It’s going well,” MJ repeats, this time a bit more forcefully. It doesn’t work to shift her family’s attention away from her who all keep watching her with the same expressions apart from Timmy, who just nods his head sarcastically.

MJ excuses herself to go to the bathroom before she punches him in his stupid face.

* * *

Instead of heading to the bathroom, she heads back outside and makes her way through another cigarette.

She’s contemplating quitting again as the nicotine rushes to her head, calming her frayed nerves, before she exhales the smoke, doing so slowly to savor the quietening effect it has. She’s stood against the wall with her forehead pressed into the exposed bricks, willing the pressure against her skull to calm her rattling mind.

She has just turned around to lean on her back instead because her forehead hurts now when she sees Peter bounding down the stairs to join her in the little smoking area. He slows his steps near the bottom of the stairs, as if seeking permission to join which seems ridiculous given that it’s an open, public space.

When she doesn’t protest he carries on and comes to stand next to her. “You mind if I bum one off you?” He asks, gesturing to the cigarette hanging between her fingers.

“Didn’t think Spider-Man smoked,” she says, half-joking, half-surprised.

“He _shouldn’t_ ,” he retorts. “I’m trying to quit.”

That gets a small smile out of her. “Me too,” she commiserates.

She pulls one out of the box in her hand and hands it off to him, before she takes a step closer to him to light it. From this close she can make out the dusting of freckles over the slope of his nose. His fingers gently brush against hers when he brings his hands up to form a barrier around the cigarette to stop the wind blowing the flame of her lighter away and suddenly, MJ is hyper-aware of her proximity to him.

She rushes to light the cigarette before she takes a giant step back and away from him, putting some distance between the two of them whilst trying to calm her suddenly erratic breathing all at once.

If Peter notices her flustered state he chooses not to comment on it, instead throwing a grateful smile her way which is really not helping things.

MJ puts out what remains of her cigarette and throws it into a nearby ashtray that's filled to the brim with the cigarette butts of others who swear they'll quit soon, before she climbs up the stairs to head back into the restaurant at the same time Peter starts to say something to her.

She only catches the back end of it. “…they always like that to you?” When she doesn't stop he carries on, “Okay, well fuck you then.”

That causes MJ to pause in her tracks, turning around to look at him with her eyes narrowed dubiously because, w _hat?_

Peter just grins widely at her, bringing the cigarette up to his lips instead of saying anything more.

MJ finds herself smiling back at him, though she’s not entirely sure what they’re smiling about, before she goes up the rest of the stairs.

She hears the way Peter chokes then breaks out into a coughing fit just as the door closes behind her.

* * *

Without Peter’s buffering presence there’s an awkward air that hangs over the table, which her godmother tries to dissipate by making small talk. “So, he seems nice,” she says, gesturing to the seat Peter once occupied.

Everyone, MJ included, agrees with her comment.

“He’s ripped,” Timmy adds, and MJ can’t say she doesn’t agree with him as much as it pains her to. “I wish I’d been bitten by a radioactive spider so I could have arms like that dweeb—”

“Spider-Man!” Her godmother exclaims upon Peter’s return.

“Peter is just fine,” he murmurs as he takes his seat again.

“You know, we were just saying how amazing it is how much Spider-Man does for the neighborhood and the city.”

He goes adorably red again, a blush washing over his face and neck. MJ thinks she doesn’t just want to commit that particular shade to canvas, she wants to draw him, _all of him_.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Peter responds awkwardly, clearly uncomfortable at the praise and attention.

Her godmother doesn’t leave it there, instead plowing on, “Your parents must be so proud of you; their superhero son.”

Instead of responding, Peter rushes to eat the remainder of his smoked salmon, focusing intently on the task of chewing with more attention than it requires. MJ knows an avoidance tactic when she sees one.

Her godmother does not, apparently. “What do your parents do?”

She watches the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallows his food, and she watches his sinewy forearms which are visible from him having rolled up the sleeves of his shirt as he picks up the napkin in his lap to wipe at his mouth. “Um, both my parents are dead,” he finally answers.

He’s so abrupt with the way that he says it that everyone at the table startles whilst Peter just goes back to eating, pointedly ignoring all of them.

MJ goes to open her mouth to change the subject to literally anything else but her godmother beats her to the punch. “Oh, I’m so sorry sweetheart. Losing your parents can’t be easy.”

Michelle clenches her jaw and curls her toes within her boots. She picks up her wine glass and downs the remainder of her red wine, holding it tight with a force that's just short of enough to shatter the glass.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” Peter agrees awkwardly. “I was really young though so it’s okay, well—not, _okay_ , but, uh, it gets easier. Especially with my aunt to support me.”

“I’m glad you have your aunt,” her godmother assures. “I’ve always said that family can be your strength…”

MJ doesn’t hear the rest of her words, quietly slipping away to head outside for yet another cigarette.

* * *

Once outside, she gets a cigarette and lighter out of her pockets and sits down on the cold ground, the asphalt digging uncomfortably into her ass but she doesn't notice nor care.

She goes to light the cigarette but instead lets out an ugly sob, her body shaking with the force of it so much that it causes her to drop the cigarette and lighter.

She never expected for her grief to disappear completely, especially not when it’s been just over a year. But she didn’t think it’d still be this painful, that the heavy weight of loss would weigh her down completely and pull her under its imposing current, drowning her.

Another sob wracks through her entire body, then another, and another, until she starts to fully cry, an ugly, snotty cry.

MJ startles when there’s suddenly a presence on the ground next to her. She turns sideways and finds Peter sat next to her, her jacket and purse in his hands, and a sheepish smile on his face.

She hurriedly wipes at her face, and sits up from her slumped position, trying to compose herself though it's pointless considering he’s likely already seen her pathetically crying by herself.

MJ sniffs and is considering whether she could get away with quickly running a hand under her nostrils to get rid of any snot when Peter speaks, “I don’t have any tissues, but you can use this.”

She looks down at the sweater he hands her incredulously. “I don’t think you want my snot all over your sweater.”

“I don’t mind,” he responds with an easy shrug.

Something tells MJ he really means it, but the thought of handing him back a snotty sweater is far too mortifying.

Seemingly reading her mind, Peter speaks again, his voice a quiet whisper meant just for her, “You know Michelle, my apartment building has this little thing called a _"washing machine"_ that like, magically cleans any clothes you put in it.” A pause. “Including a snotty sweater.”

MJ can’t help but let out a bemused chuckle, her first of the night, before she brings a sleeve of the sweater up to her face to wipe away her tears, and her snot. She tries not to notice the way the sweater smells of him; a heady mixture of lavender fabric softener, a cheap, chalky deodorant, sweat and something that’s so oddly, _him_ , despite the fact she doesn’t even know him. The smell of it helps to comfort and calm her.

“MJ,” MJ eventually says once she’s dried her face.

“Hmm?”

“My friends call me MJ,” she mumbles shyly.

Peter raises his eyebrows, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Shut up, or I’ll cover your entire sweater in my snot.”

Peter’s grin only grows wider at her words, and MJ rolls her eyes but feels something warm and fond settle deep within her.

They fall into a comfortable silence, the sounds of the vibrant city before them, the hum of it—the traffic, the sirens, the people walking on the sidewalk below—creating an oddly soothing accompaniment to the moment.

Peter interrupts the silence, “I, uh, I brought you your coat and purse so you can sneak out. I can cover for you with your family.”

They do a swap, her accepting her things whilst handing his sweater back to him.

“Sorry about the…” she doesn’t finish her sentence, instead gesturing to the ruined sleeve of his sweater. Peter only smiles in response.

For the first time since he came out to join her, MJ is suddenly aware of how close the two of them are sat with their shoulders and thighs pressed up against each other. She can feel the heat radiating off him, helping to keep the chill of the late evening away.

MJ feels a warmth bloom in her cheeks and low in her belly, a sudden wave of desire pulsing through her. Before she does something stupid like lean in to kiss him, she rushes to get up onto her feet. “Um, thanks for offering to cover for me. I’m gonna, uh, go?”

“It was nice to meet you, MJ,” Peter says as he gets up onto his feet as well before he extends a hand out towards her.

MJ eyes his outstretched hand curiously, hesitating momentarily, before she reaches her own hand forward to shake his.

She can’t help but smile at the formality of the gesture, and Peter smiles as if he's thinking the same thing. MJ takes in the feeling of the calluses of his hand against her softer, less worn one and when her mind begins to wonder about what his fingers might feel against another part of her she quickly snatches her hand back and awkwardly clears her throat.

“Okay, I’m gonna go,” she gets out in something that sounds suspiciously like a squeak.

She’s halfway up the stairs back into the restaurant when Peter calls out to her, stopping her in her tracks. “Hey, MJ?”

She pauses with one foot raised towards the last step, then she turns back to look at him.

“I’m, uh, I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to.” He reaches a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck, a nervous gesture she noticed him do earlier on in the night at the dinner table.

All MJ can do is smile back at him, a small and shy thing, her heart speeding up just as it seems to slow down all at once. She then walks into the restaurant, ensuring she stays out of her family’s sights as she sneaks out to head to her apartment where her bed, TV and vibrator await.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guys tell this is the only period of time I have free for a few months and I'm getting all my WIPs out now lol? Anyways, everyone knows the _real_ love story of 'Fleabag' is Fleabag and Claire, but I've decided to not focus on that so much here as much as it pains me :( (one day I'll write a fic about MJ and Gayle, one day). I'm trying to finish 'Tough Luck' atm so I may not update this for a while so pls bare w me but I hope you enjoyed this opening chapter. As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!!!
> 
> Find me [tumblr](https://tvfanatic97-2.tumblr.com/) and on [twitter](https://twitter.com/dayaspsychic), if you want x


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